Life and Death and Cloves
by nin-anna
Summary: Still a student at Kuronomei, Hirato saves his friends from a Varuga attack. As everyone around him celebrates the murder with joy and regard it as the ultimate achievement for a young cadet, the burden of killing is heavy... Though Hirato does not seem to feel it such, or at least he would like to think so. Akari thinks otherwise.


_(**A/N:** My new passion is writing oneshots for Karneval's dear Akari though I have very real confidence issues when it comes to this character... I also very recently realised that the fact that there are only 6 years of age between Akari and Hirato/Tsukitachi means that Akari was incredibly young when he was teaching them, actually around the same age as Yogi or Jiki, perhaps younger... I like to think that Hirato eventually develops a crush on Akari during their school days while for Akari Hirato -and Tsukitachi- is rather a nuisance most of the time.)_

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An unexpected Varuga attack during one of the first training expeditions of the school year. It would have become a major disaster if one talented student in the Circus course, a participant in the said expedition, had not skilfully annihilated the threat. His name became an instant sacred chant throughout the campus, adding many more to his already quite numerous admirers from every single course at Kuronomei. 

Said star however was mostly apathetic to the love and adoration he was showered with and a little irritated at the inconveniencing attention he was made the centre of. Even simply taking a walk in the campus had become a bothersome task of various obstacles, random strangers nearing him and asking a ton of questions about his chivalrous achievement. 

While Hirato indeed regarded the event an achievement of a kind, he certainly did not regard it _chivalrous_. He had killed, his hands had been stained with blood – a blood of blood if anything, the filth of monsters born of men and women and of children perhaps... If anything he found the whole affair to be rather tragic, thus the celebratory cheer and worship to it only made the whole situation disgustingly tragicomic for his sensibilities. There was no use in telling any of these to anyone though, not like they would understand, not like they would have to understand. And he... well, he had chosen his path and an early initiation to the art of murder was not wholly a bad thing; it allowed him an early start than most his fellow Circus course mates and hence ensuring a quicker and stronger development for his future career. He had to become adept in killing and surely this was only the beginning. 

The problem was the fact that he was not yet so adept in nor adapted to his peculiarly inhumane profession. Thus, likely even unbeknownst to himself, there were little changes across his whole being and behaviour since the incident; things that had no relation whatsoever to the attention craze that had surrounded him. His gaze would falter sometimes during the lecture and he would find himself staring into emptiness, thinking _nothing_... His hands would feel cold at the oddest moments, even in the hottest corners of the school buildings and he would find his fingers strangely shaking now and then – he presumed this to be due to the bizarre coldness itself. The little changes that he did not relate to anything and most importantly did not even think of correlating to anything were instantaneously and thoroughly recognised and analysed by another person though. 

It was no surprise when Hirato keenly occupied Akari-sensei's room during another long break for yet another barrage of questions, answers of which he certainly knew and Akari-sensei also knew that he knew. What was a surprise was Akari-sensei's demeanour: the usual youthfully arrogant and playful remarks somehow could not ruffle the feathers of the young teacher even a little bit. He stayed calm and composed, no signs of any anger or irritation and Hirato thought bitterly that perhaps something was wrong with him if he could not properly disrupt and tease the sensei he was for some reason very much interested in. 

What was even more of a surprise though was how, deep in his own thoughts and perhaps the first time in the middle of his own adolescent insecurities, Hirato had not realised his sensei standing up and preparing a delightful concoction. He only realised it when the alluring scent of the hot beverage tingled in front of his nose. It was a bewildering sight, actually, a sight he was sure that he would never witness again and it was certainly a miracle that he was witnessing at that moment. He had seen Akari-sensei prepare tea for himself once or twice but never to anybody else and his currently underperforming confidence confused him for a second such that he could not register the fact that the delicious liquid inside the beautifully adorned tea cup placed right in front of him on the table actually belonged to him. He stared at his teacher's face for a second, the graceful features completely unperturbed by the sudden gaze and almost apathetic. His gaze fell below to the tea cup in front of him again and then something, something fell into place. He was not sure what, he would never know what, but something simply fitted in. A much joyful if a little mischievous smile curved his lips upwards as his long fingers claimed the delicate handle of the porcelain tea cup. 

A single sip.

"Earl Grey?"

The young man in front of him, Akari-sensei whom his classmate Tsukitatchi had once very rightfully and correctly – even if a little annoyingly and sarcastically – described to be "_too perfect a being to exist_", simply nodded.

"It is rather spicy though."

Another sip. He then paused for a second to simply inhale the enchanting scent of the potion he was served with... It was absolutely not just Earl Grey, even if a very high quality kind.

"Cloves?"

He asked, a brow slightly moving up. He had not taken Akari-sensei to be a person to like a bitter and spicy thing as cloves. If anything the man, with his peach hair and cherry blossom eyes, delicate features and pristine style suited to rose petals or jasmine.

"I am rather fond of certain bitter tastes." the young teacher commented. It was true too, Akari preferred the dark rich chocolate to milk ones, cloves to rose petals, ginger to honey... It was not that he did not like sweet things, he loved brown coral sugar, for instance. It was rather that he enjoyed things of bitter nature in a significant way and especially so if they were so intricately mixed with tender sweetness. Such as a cup of Earl Grey deliciously embraced with a few dark cloves and sweetened with several drops of honey.

Another smile and another sip. It was incredibly delicious, if Hirato had to admit. He was about to make a teasing comment when his mischievous thoughts halted with a sudden realisation and thus for a more serious inquisition,

"Are you pitying me?"

"Why would I?"

The words were uttered so smoothly and so devoid of any travesty, in complete honesty and in an almost interrogative innocence as if that was possible, Hirato was caught unready. This had been happening for multiple times now within the last few hours, it annoyed him to no end. Just when he was about to retort though, his teacher placed the cup in his hands to the table silently and started speaking,

"I devoted my life and I plan to devote my life to saving lives. I wish, I dearly, strongly wish it was possible to always ensure our survival without harming any being. Unfortunately the Life itself is sometimes the greediest force on Earth. There is salvation in Death at times. I am aware of it even if I despise it greatly. If you are wavering this early in your path you should abandon it immediately for it is not a path for any man or woman who is not ready to become Death. I do, however, wish that you and your comrades at least can learn to honour Death and Life, deservedly and deeply. These are not fickle matters to be reduced to unnecessary cheers or instruments of power. I am afraid, if they are ever regarded as such, it is only then we are truly doomed... Life and Death, never take them lightly."

There were many things Hirato could say in response. He could explain just how he honestly did not feel any remorse but how he did not feel rejoice either. He could explain how different he was from them all and how the attention only bothered him than anything else. He could explain the warm tingling feeling he had felt in his veins and the contrasting chill creeping up his spine, right the moment he killed. The rush of blood and surge of heat, the taste of levels of adrenaline few had experienced before. He could explain just how much tea was not his ideal drink up until that point in time but that there was something definitely amiss and certainly addictive in the specific mixture offered to him now. He could explain how for the first time in weeks he felt relieved, he felt at peace and how surprised he was at this for he had not felt any tremor, any knot of stress nor secretive turmoil in the first place. He could explain for hours but he did not utter a single word. He silently drank his tea across his teacher, now and then fluttering his eyes close for mere one third or even one fourth of a second to truly inhale the smell and instil the taste to his mouth.

When his tea was finished, he silently gathered his things, stood up politely and bowed to his teacher even more politely, the most civil like always but perhaps for the first time equally sincere words of thankfulness were uttered in silence to his teacher who simply nodded. He turned his back and was exiting the door when he abruptly paused, turned around to face his teacher. A youthfully intense intent in his eyes, surely child of a newly discovered passion, a slyly playful tone in his voice, he said:

"I like to regard myself as something quite bitter Akari-sensei. Like cloves."

He exited in a fast pace right after, leaving behind a young teacher of now crimson face, who was cursing his luck and bouts of sentimental honesty, and definitely rethinking his career choices.


End file.
